December steadily moves ahead as Harry continues with his revision and Occlumency lessons. But even he's aware of just how far behind he is with regular fifth-year coursework, regardless of Hermione's efforts to assist.
The D.A. meetings also gradually decrease in pace until the final one on Wednesday, the 18th of December. Since most of the school's headed home for Christmas anyway, Harry feels that it's pointless to continue until next year. Once the final meeting concludes, everyone wishes one another well for the holidays as two students stay behind in the Room of Requirement.
"I'm scared for you, Harry," says Hermione, on Wednesday evening, "scared that you'll be stuck in fifth-year next year. All of us would've moved on to N.E.W.T. subjects while you're battling for O.W.L.s, I simply cannot stand the thought of that."
"Stop stressing, I'll be fine," says Harry, who once again lays across her lap as she studies in the Room of Requirement. "You worry far too much."
"And you worry far too little!" Hermione looks down upon him with tears in her eyes. "You're so dedicated to your anti-Pureblood Quidditch crusade that you're not attending as many classes as before. Whatever happened to using all that Polyjuice on actually attending lessons every so often?"
"Nobody cares if I fail anyway, assuming I'd even get to come back this year. Look at me, the laughing stock of the school."
"Don't you realise just how much effort I'm putting in to try and help you?" asks Hermione. "Haven't you noticed me no longer knitting all those hats for the House Elves?"
"I didn't ask to stand in the way of your S.P.E.W. crusade, Hermione. Feel free to ditch me and carry on knitting well past midnight, on most nights."
"I'd sooner die than ditch you, Mister Potter."
Harry looks up to see Hermione's brown eyes scanning across bits of text. Not even the tears welling up in her eyes can distract her from reading. But the splash of drips hitting her book sends a sharp pang through Harry's chest.
"Tell me," he says softly, in the hopes of having Hermione's smile return. "Do you still remember which books I'm in?"
Her cheeks turn a deep shade of red. "Oh, Harry, Modern Magical History..."
"The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts," says Harry, while looking into Hermione's eyes as she begins to smile.
"Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century." Her eyes glance over the boy resting so comfortably on her lap. "Best wizarding events is what I'd call it, not that I'm saying it's nice that your parents were killed. Wait, I can't believe I just put nice in a sentence involving your mum and dad getting—"
"Hermione,"—Harry caresses her knee—"it's alright, calm down, I know what you're trying to say. So, remind me how you felt doing that background reading on me before coming to school?"
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Hermione sets her book aside before slowly stroking her fingers through Harry's hair. "Forever sticking up almost like a porcupine. A porcupine with glasses."
"Well then, you're a sweet scented herb."
"Aw, thank you."
"Porcupines are herbivorous."
"So very funny," says Hermione, while lightly grabbing a fistful of Harry's front bangs.
"Did it excite little you reading all about the Boy-Who-Lived? Admit it, you were a big fangirl of me."
Hermione smiles while looking down upon the grinning Harry. "Nope, sorry, that would be Ginny."
"And when you finally saw me on the train you thought..." Harry puts on a feminine voice, similar to a younger Hermione. "Oooooh I've so gotta get to know that dreamy boy, I've so gotta get in his trousers."
"Oh, excuse me?"
Harry laughs as she pulls harder on his hair. "You are excused, Miss Granger. Yank my hair, yes."
"Actually," laughs Hermione, "you seem to be deluding yourself to the truth, Mister Potter. What really happened was me checking the train for Neville's toad... before eventually stumbling across one compartment. And who was in there, I wonder?"
"A handsome devil," says Harry, frowning as Hermione shakes her head.
"A little lonely train compartment boy, that's what." She flashes a smile once again. "So... ha-ha, in your face! But you are handsome, now don't let this further inflate your big ego."
"You know how many times I've been told that by Pansy? I miss her, though."
"She's a lot happier now that she knows you're around," says Hermione. "Haven't seen her smile in class until you dropped her hints that Mister King of Slytherin is back."
"Yeah well," Harry yawns rather widely before shutting his eyes, "I'll show myself when the time's right. How long are you planning on studying anyway?"
"Three more hours should do it for tonight, and I'm not slacking off even if Friday's the end of term. You can sleep on my lap if you'd like, just don't snore."
"I never snore." Harry feels the embrace of sleep closing in as he mumbles to Hermione. "You're a bore... a bore that I adore..."
Everything appears pitch black for Harry... the sounds of a slithering snake echo in the darkness. A hissing of the tongue can be heard... a scream of agony fills the void. But now, for a fleeting moment, the darkness clears to a familiar cold, dark corridor. Then it all turns black again, as quickly as he'd seen himself in wherever this place happens to be—
Pain sears through his scar as Harry awakes to see a terrified girl kneeling beside him. He's no longer on her lap but instead writhing on the floor, sweating profusely.
"WAKE UP!" shouts Hermione, who's standing with the Invisibility Cloak in hand. "We have to get you to Professor Dumbledore's office right away! What kind of bad dream have you had this time? Was it the graveyard haunting you again? Was it... Azkaban? You look positively sick right now."
"I heard a scream, Hermione, that's most of what I remember. Can't say I saw anything much, either, probably a glimpse of..."
"Of what? What did you see?" Hermione grabs Harry as he gets to his feet. "I've never seen you sleep this terribly before. You were screaming and—"
"Ron's dad."
"What?"
"I think I heard Ron's dad... that's who I heard screaming. Then there was that weird corridor place I sometimes dream of since the holidays... what exactly is going on with me?" Harry lets Hermione slip the Cloak over him as they exit the Room of Requirement.
"You're asking me?" she whispers. "Try to think: have you ever been in that corridor place?"
"That's the thing," whispers Harry, as they begin descending the grand staircase. "Why am I dreaming of someplace I've never ever been to? Wait a minute... could this be..."
"Explain quickly before we're in the silent corridors, Harry."
"Professor Snape warned me about Voldemort possibly uncovering this connection. What if this is some kind of Legilimency he's decided to use on me?"
"You said one needs eye contact for that, and Voldemort's not exactly in this school." Hermione leads the way beneath Harry's Cloak as they traverse the second floor. "My only guess is this has something to do with your scar, and by the looks of it... you're in agony, right?"
"Yeah, it's burning like hell right now."
By the time they reach the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office, Harry summons Dobby to request permission to enter.
"Must've changed the bloody password again," mutters Harry, before the gargoyle allows them passage into this office. Wasting no time, the pair immediately throw off the Cloak before rushing up to a pensive Dumbledore sitting behind his desk. Their explanations kept swift and to the point.
"Where were you positioned when you watched this attack happen?" asks Dumbledore, while Harry's the one now pacing up and down this office.
"It was all too dark for me to see... just caught a brief glimpse of Mr. Weasley, I think, laying on the floor. Can't recall anything other than that and his scream."
"You said you heard a slithering snake?" asks Dumbledore. "Where did you hear it?"
"Like I said, sir, everything was pitch black for most of the dream. But the hissing and slithering sounded... everywhere I guess. It's like it filled the darkness completely. And I—" Harry pauses as he suddenly feels a great urge to attack his Headmaster. "No, I won't do it."
"Do what?" asks a wide-eyed Hermione. "Harry, what are you talking about now?"
He shuts his eyes and battles to clear his panicking, raging mind in this office. "I'm getting this urge to lash out... at Professor Dumbledore."
"Those are not your emotions, use your Occlumency," says Dumbledore, who stands up to fiddle about with some silver instruments which Harry cares little for. "Essence divided, eh? Interesting." He then has Fawkes scout the castle and relay a signal should Umbridge notice anything amiss.
Still seated nearby, Hermione looks from a focused Harry to a thoughtful Dumbledore. The latter now directing a few portraits to raise the alarm in search of wherever Mr. Weasley happens to be.
"Professor, is Harry being... possessed right now?"
"That's a rather blunt way of putting it, Miss Granger." Although his tone be stern, Dumbledore smiles nonetheless before looking at Harry. "I believe the reason your dream was so vivid and yet so unclear... so dark ... is that you've been putting your Occlumency to use... Harry?"
Hermione groans before tapping the shut-eyed boy on his shoulder. "The Professor's talking to you... hello? Those portraits are in search of Mister Weasley, so it's going to be alright! You're focusing far too hard and not listening to us right now."
"I think..." Harry sighs a slight bit while seated before Dumbledore's desk. "I think the pain's mostly gone. I'm sorry, sir, but I have been practicing everything Professor Snape's taught me. This dream, though, how could it just force its way through? I did put up some Occlumency before sleeping on...well... ahem, Hermione's lap." He adds the last part rather swiftly, feeling quite a heat rising in his cheeks.
"Perhaps the connection is stronger than you'd anticipated," says Dumbledore. "I wouldn't be conveying this much if I wasn't confident in your abilities, Harry. But it's good to know you are making it extremely difficult for Voldemort to enter your mind. Three lessons in and Professor Snape seems to think your efforts are acceptable. But this link, well, let's just say that it's more than simple Legilimency that we're dealing with here."
"It sounds like Voldemort's trying to break into your mind, isn't it?" asks Hermione to a nodding Harry. "But what is he trying to do? No offense, but it's not like you've got any top secret info on whatever's going on. You barely even know what's happening these days besides your Quidditch crusade."
"A very useful endeavour that Voldemort would truly find a waste of time," says Dumbledore. "No wonder Tom's not putting too much effort into manipulating Harry. I doubt he cares much for who catches the Snitch or scores the next goal. He never even bothered with Quidditch in his time, a 'frivolous distraction' as he once told me."
Harry immediately beams with a smile. "Tom Riddle never played Quidditch? Truly?"
"Well," says Hermione, "That's to be expected, hmm? Wouldn't have been of any use to his current occupation. Oh, come on. Now you're going to get all smug because you're good at something Voldemort hasn't done."
"Me: 1, Tom: 0, he can suck on it—"
"Dumbledore!" shouts one of the paintings whom the Headmaster had sent to investigate.
"Any news?"
It's soon apparent that Arthur Weasley had just recently been gravely wounded at the Ministry, and that he's being moved to St. Mungo's.
"The Ministry?" asks Harry, who's never been there before. "Could that be where this mysterious corridor I'm dreaming about is?"
"Perhaps, but you do understand why I'm rather hesitant to reveal too much at this point?"
"Yes, sir," says Harry, showing his usual respect for a great wizard. "But, say I do improve even further in my private lessons... would you tell me just a bit more?"
"All you should know is that Voldemort is after something that he hopes to use against you. And, for your sake, it's best not to go searching for it yourself. These visions are coming for a reason, Harry, please take a moment to consider them."
"It's always the exact same corridor that I feel a tremendous urge to get through... to get past this door that's forever closed at its end."
"So," says Hermione, "Voldemort's in search of something within the Ministry of Magic. Something that's making him try to get into Harry's mind?"
"Your speculations are fairly solid, Miss Granger." Dumbledore smiles at the pair of students. "However, I'd focus on my fifth-year if I were you, a very crucial year this can be for either of you two. Harry, rest assured that we are still working towards getting you back. The legalities and debates are constantly being postponed by those siding with Cornelius Fudge."
"Typical!" scoffs Harry. "Just typical of them."
"I'm sure Miss Granger will have you catching up to your coursework in due time," says Dumbledore, even as Hermione stands visibly nervous. "Both of you are rather sharp students, remarkably similar to a pair from years ago."
"Who, sir?" asks Harry, while standing up from his seat.
"So I believe that, with a bit more effort, you'll have a decent understanding of fifth year, Harry." Dumbledore now looks at Hermione. "At least you are kind enough not to charge him for your tuition."
"I won't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind, sir," says Hermione. "Since he's always so smug over his wealth."
"Now, Miss Granger, I'd like you to wake the Weasleys then bring them and Professor McGonagall to my office. Be quick, since Professor Umbridge is bound to spot you out during curfew."
Once Hermione's left the room, Dumbledore has Harry take a seat while watching him.
"Still feeling the urge to attack me?"
"No, sir, I'm not in the mood for suicide."
They sit in silence while Dumbledore sends Phineas Nigellus to inform Sirius of tonight's guests. Then the Headmaster creates a Portkey for the group to travel to Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
"We need to be quick," says Dumbledore. "I'd rather Professor Umbridge not discover your role in saving Arthur Weasley. If so, then your connection with Voldemort might become public knowledge..."
"And that is absolutely unacceptable," says Harry, while Dumbledore nods most agreeably. "Far too many risks involved with that. Fudge would have a field day spewing theories and accusations against me."
"Not to mention that the Ministry would seek to investigate this link. At times, their methods may be questionable as not everything is known to the public. I'd never wish to place you in such grave danger, Harry."
"I never have and probably never will trust this Ministry." Harry soon turns to see the door opening to a most dishevelled and shocked group of siblings. Their eyes dart from an equally surprised Professor McGonagall to Dumbledore before, eventually, settling upon Harry himself.
Before anyone else can speak, Dumbledore briefly explains tonight's events. This is followed by Fawkes' warning: a flash of flame sending a golden feather floating to the floor. Immediately, Dumbledore ushers the group towards their Portkey as they are taken to Sirius' place in London. Seconds into their arrival in the basement kitchen, Harry spots Sirius and Kreacher having another verbal row nearby.
"Is it true the blood traitors are going to lose their father?"
"YOU'D BETTER GET—"
Harry already feels extremely guilty for distracting Hermione from her S.P.E.W. campaign. Therefore, since she's right beside him, he swiftly runs towards Sirius.
"That's enough, leave Kreacher alone."
"Wha—?"
"We've got other priorities at hand," says Harry, who lets Kreacher walk away while grumbling as usual. "Quit picking on the elf, man, he's just talking from how he's conditioned."
"But why defend that piece of dirt?" asks Sirius, as the Weasleys stand quizzically around Harry.
"Get angry at him all you want but it's not going to change his outlook on life. You're just wasting your time and energy screaming at the poor guy." Harry now recounts the dream he's had which soon ends up in a heated exchange between Sirius and the twins.
"This is our dad we're talking about!" shouts Fred. "We need to get to St. Mungo's right now!"
"And then the whole damn world will know Harry's got some kind of mental link with Voldemort," mutters Sirius. "We have to wait until your mother's informed by the hospital of Arthur's arrival. It makes sense that way and wouldn't bring any risk to the Order."
George wholeheartedly agrees with his twin as they scream in the kitchen. "WE DON'T CARE ABOUT THE STUPID ORDER!"
"And that's exactly why you're not in the Order," retorts Sirius, while blocking the Weasleys from rushing through the doorway. "Your father wouldn't want you screwing things up for us all! It's bad enough that Harry's seen as a murderer and all that rubbish, last thing we need is to drag Dumbledore down with him."
"How easy for you to say." Fred's cheeks appear deeply reddened. "What exactly have you been doing for the Order in here, eh? Free man or not, you spend all day locked up in this house!"
"I could go out if I'd like," says Sirius. "The Ministry wouldn't do a thing, yeah... and then Voldemort would have me snatched up in no time."
"Why's that?" asks Ginny. "I'd have thought you'd be desperate to leave this horrible house?"
"Private information, kids." Sirius briefly looks at the twins. "If you were more mature, then the Order might perhaps share them with you. We don't care about the stupid Order, who do you think you are?"
"ARTHUR WEASLEY'S SON!" bellows Fred and George. "THE MAN WHO'S FATALLY WOUNDED AND CURRENTLY IN HOSPITAL."
"Ow, my ears..." mutters Harry, while Hermione partially cups them with her warm hands. "Thank you."
"Thank you for saving Ron's dad—" Hermione's statement is drowned out by the continuing argument nearby.
"Sitting on my arse all day long?" asks Sirius, before giving a drawn out laugh. "Thanks to my godson—who's just SAVED your father's life—picking up on your Montague plan, Hogwarts is one massive bit safer now. But you probably don't realise that, huh?"
"What are you talking about?" asks Ron, who's finally decided to speak. "We're bloody wasting time over here. Move so we can get dressed warmer, or we'll make you move out the way. Otherwise we'll just side-along Apparate in our pyjamas to St. Mungo's right now!"
Sirius draws his wand as the twins and Ron pull out their own. "Remember the Cabinet you two wanted to run that Slytherin in?"
"What about it?" asks an impatient Fred.
"Bet you don't know that Dumbledore and Harry pretty much utterly destroyed it... and guess when?"
"GET OUT THE WAY!"
"Shut it, Ron," says Sirius. "They destroyed it on the same day mentioned by that article in the Daily Prophet. Do you recall the story about the mysterious raid on Borgin and Burkes? Someone"—He grins—"went in and trashed the place. A few items were destroyed... including a Vanishing Cabinet. You twins are smart, so use your brains."
"Wait a minute." Hermione rubs Harry's ears before letting go and walking towards Sirius at the doorway. "You did that?"
"Tonks and I, yes," whispers Sirius. "Metamorphmagus, remember? The article said Borgin last saw a grotesque individual perusing his shop before Borgin was attacked. Who here in this kitchen owns a splendid Invisibility Cloak, huh?"
All eyes turn to Harry who nods. "There you have it, folks. Not only have I saved your father's life but also the entire school as well. I ran straight for the Room, until being myself again, before heading to Dumbledore's office. Sent my Patronus through the Vanishing Cabinet which told me where he'd gone. Then, Dumbledore and I annihilated that Cabinet before leaving its twin to be taken care of after sunset."
He shakes his head in disbelief before continuing:
"There was a backdoor, straight through the castle's many enchantments, into Hogwarts from bloody Knockturn Alley, den of the scum."
"Still think I've done nothing for the Order?" asks Sirius to the Weasleys. "Imagine what would've happened if the Death Eaters... and/or Voldemort himself... snuck into Hogwarts after bedtime?"
"You"—Harry looks at Hermione standing before him—"would've been a dead Muggleborn."
"Why didn't you tell any of us? Everyone thought it was a Death Eater or Ministry raid or something?" asks Hermione.
"Funny how I'm so useful to the school after I'm expelled," says Harry.
"That's not funny." Hermione zips up Harry's hoodie, as he's now feeling a bit chilly. "That was brilliant. Very brilliant."
"You kids calmed down yet?" asks Sirius, while eyeing the siblings. "Look, your father's in the best care possible at this point. If it wasn't for Harry's timely dream-vision-thing then they'd have found Arthur's corpse later... or tomorrow. So at least it hasn't come to that. Now, why don't we all have a drink so long? Accio Butterbeer!"
Harry sees the Weasleys looking his way as half a dozen drinks fly into the room. "There's no need to thank me any further, really."
"First it was Ginny in the Chamber," says Fred.
"Now dad in the Ministry," adds George.
"Let's not forget saving Ron from a feral maniac black dog in school," says Harry, while looking at his godfather.
"Oh ha-ha amusing." Sirius has the group sit down as drinks are served. "I think the correct statement would be 'saving Ron from a traitorous, murderous rat.'"
Ginny smiles as she elbows Ron in the side. "Doesn't sound very threatening, does it? Shame."
"Well"—Ron barely swallows his mouthful of Butterbeer before carrying on—"Someone ought to save Percy from his big-headed, brown-nosing, Ministry arse-kissing self someday, yeah."
Minutes pass by in silence as Hermione places her hand atop Harry's cold one on the table. Their transfer of warmth comes as a relief to both of them.
"How are you feeling?"
"With my hands."
Ginny nearly spits out her mouthful of drink before frowning. "Doesn't he ever take anything seriously?"
"I was pretty serious when I killed the Basilisk." Harry turns to see Hermione rest her head on his shoulder. "I'm trying to control my emotions, to discipline my mind. But it's a lot easier said than done, so excuse me if I seem emotionally dead for awhile."
A flash of fire soon illuminates the dim room as Fawkes brings a letter from Mrs. Weasley, who's currently with her husband in hospital. He's still alive, but these words only serve to heighten the growing sense of dread in the kitchen. As per Mrs. Weasley's orders, the group has little choice but to remain here overnight. And it's a terribly long one indeed for everyone, including Harry who remains deep in thought:
I've saved him, I've done good, I've stopped Voldemort from taking another life. This isn't the graveyard, this isn't Alyssa...
"Emotionally dead, eh?" asks Hermione, her voice a soothing whisper in the silence. "And yet you're smiling, Harry."
Of course I'm smiling, you loveable girl. He looks her in the eye while still in thought, and eventually starts falling asleep with head in arms on the table. Soft hands stroke the back of his sweaty hair as Hermione removes his glasses for comfort. Hopefully, there'll be no visions nor anything odd with a much-needed night's rest...
"... so he's going to be alright," says a woman's voice in the distance, as Harry's eyes slowly open. "Your father's sleeping, we can all go and see him later. Bill and that colleague of his are sitting with Arthur now."
It's Mrs. Weasley's voice, as far as Harry can tell while squinting up from his arms. A blurry mix of faces and firelight now greet him in the early hours of morning.
"Harry's... awake," says a yawning Ginny. "Lucky him, getting to sleep while we're all worried sick."
"He deserved some rest" says Hermione. "If it weren't for Harry then, well, I'd rather not think about it."
"Put his glasses on already, dear," says Mrs. Weasley. "Let him at least see us as we thank him."
Harry loses count of the amount of hugs and handshakes he receives after getting up from his seat. But if there's one thing that widens his grin, it's being hailed as a 'blessing to the family' by Mrs. Weasley.
"I only wish you'd have known us much sooner," she says. "But we understand how difficult it must've been during those first two years of school for you. At least you're now in better company than those snobbish boys who've given you a hard time."
"Alright!" declares Sirius. "Now that our boy's awake, how about some breakfast? Where is that damn, accursed—"
A poke to the side has Harry seeing Hermione looking up at him.
"Sirius, I'm really not in the mood for this right now."
"For what?" Sirius looks across the table at his narrow-eyed godson.
"Bullying and barking insults at Kreacher."
"This again?"
Harry knows that his godfather would never lose his temper with him, even when their opinions differ this much. He therefore calls him aside to have a hushed chat in the corner of the kitchen.
"I still don't understand why you keep on defending that thing. He mocks you and Hermione's blood status, remember? The Weasleys for their life choices too!" says Sirius.
"What were you about to yell at Kreacher when we arrived?"
"I was about to chase him out the kitchen, yeah. Not like he's any good with cooking... or at least he sucks ever since I'm his Master, git of an elf," mutters Sirius.
"You know, I had a look at the family tapestry the other day and remembered that Narcissa Malfoy is actually family of ours, almost forgot."
"What does that have to do with our conversation?"
"Everything." Harry straightens up while ignoring the curious looks from the rest of the kitchen at this hushed discussion. "The Malfoys mistreated Dobby, and he came to assist... if you can call it that... me back in second year. Professor Dumbledore has also once mentioned that it'd be unwise to constantly belittle a House Elf. He told me that when I asked why Dobby would contradict Lucius Malfoy's plans with the Chamber of Secrets."
"So, you're saying I have to be nice to Kreacher or else he'll contradict my plans? I don't have any plans, really."
"House Elves are funny creatures at times," says Harry. "With how desperate Kreacher is to serve someone else, I'm sure he'd twist your get the hell out order to leave this house. Would you like him running off and spilling the beans to Narcissa Malfoy, née Black?"
"Man, what are sermon." Sirius whistles before chuckling. "It's clear Snivellus is your Head of House. Look, this place is under the protection of the Fidelius Charm and there's no damn Peter to ruin things here. Even if Kreacher went running off, there's not much he could do to cause any damage. He can't tell Narcissa about the house nor its location nor can she even consider it, since the charm affects one's thoughts too. I think you're being a bit too paranoid, Harry."
"Yeah, and what happened last time I was paranoid? Even the Headmaster missed that Vanishing Cabinet backdoor... from friggen Knockturn Alley!"
"Hey, Sirius," says Ron. "Quit lecturing Harry and get us breakfast already before mum has to end up making it. She's exhausted."
"Um," Hermione nudges Ron in the side. "I don't think Sirius is the one doing the lecturing over there."
"So," says Sirius," I'm basically like a hostage forced to put up with that insulting thing's existence? Do you have any idea what that's like?"
"Yep, I sure do." Harry smiles while folding his arms. "I had to put up with Professor Snape and his snide remarks for all these years in Potions, his office, and the common room. That's similar to you and Kreacher... sort of. You know what I mean."
"Damn," sighs Sirius, "well... don't expect me to be nice to this brainwashed slime ball."
"I don't expect you to be nice to him. But I do expect you to know what's the best course of action regarding an already angry House Elf. If happy Dobby turned on the Malfoys, well, I'd rather not think of what Kreacher might do if given the opportunity here."
Once their private discussion ends, Harry and Sirius return to the kitchen table where the latter summons Kreacher.
"Breakfast, Kreacher."
"Master demands breakfast for him, this Mudblood, and these blood traitor friends?"
Ron stands up from his seat. "Don't you dare—"
"Quiet, Ronald," says Harry, who now stands at his chair while looking at Kreacher. "That would be very much appreciated, yes, Kreacher. We'd all love to have something to eat this morning."
"Now the Master's filthy half-blood godson demands food too? But Kreacher must serve, very well."
Harry smiles at the hurt looks coming his way from Sirius and the Weasleys. "Thank you, Kreacher. But this filthy half-blood standing here is in Slytherin, remember? Surely that has to count for something?"
Grumbling, Kreacher walks to the far end of the room where he begins making the group some breakfast.
"That ungrateful little elf, insulting you based on mere blood," whispers Mrs. Weasley, while her children gawk at Harry.
"Stand up for yourself, man! Why'd you call yourself filthy?" asks Ginny. "We don't think there's anything wrong with you at all."
"People," Harry rolls his eyes at the barrage of sympathy sent his way. "I know how to handle certain types, remember that I was in Azkaban."
Murmurs of agreement, and looks of sadness, come his way once again. Now Harry lowers his voice while leaning on the table.
"How do you think I spent three months in the same building with people like Sirius' cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange? Oh, whatever," Harry rolls his eyes at the collective gasp across the table, "Yes, I know what she's done."
"That woman is nothing but the vilest of sorts in this world," whispers Mrs. Weasley. "I hope she stays in jail for life or, if not, someone does her in."
I like her, and nobody's 'doing Bellatrix in' on my watch, says Harry to himself, but he smiles nonetheless before speaking. "So, I take it everyone's going to rest up before we visit Mr. Weasley?"
"Yes, dear," says Mrs. Weasley. "You can rest up a bit more if you'd like."
The rest of the morning sees nearly everyone fast asleep after a night spent in harrowing dread. At lunchtime, the group dress as Muggles for their trip to St. Mungo's with Moody and Tonks set to escort them via the Underground.
"So, Harry," says Tonks, sitting beside him on the train. "Whatever vision that was seems dead useful. You sure there's no Seer blood in your family? Oh, but then again you saw the present which is weird."
Harry barely gets off a nod before Moody pats him hard on the shoulder.
"That was some excellent vigilance with the Cabinet, Potter, excellent! Good to see you're still putting what I taught you to good use. See? And here people were poking fun at Constant Vigilance last year, bet they don't even know their school's much safer now." Moody now frowns a slight bit. "Dumbledore told me about your new wand, hope you know what you're doing."
"I sure do, Professor."
"Come off it, I ain't teaching no more," says Moody, before giving a slight laugh. "Was fun while it lasted, though."
Moody and Harry both keep their hands clutched around their pocketed wands as the train soon reaches the heart of London. Tonks eyes the pair to see Harry constantly shifting his gaze across the carriage while Moody, with his tipped bowler hat concealing his magical eye, does the same.
"The little lad sure is learning from you eh, Mad-Eye? So cute."
"Death Eater attacks could happen at a moment's notice, or no notice at all," growls Moody. "We need to be prepared!"
"Stupid Trace and rules my arse," mutters Harry. "If they attack then I'm fighting back, big time."
"Good laddie, yes," replies a nodding Moody. "Ministry's got plenty of undercover folks ready to Obliviate any witnessing Muggles, should the need arise."
Fortunately, nothing amiss happens as Sirius leads the group out to the bustling streets of London. It's a fairly short walk before they reach the closed storefront which is used to transport them to a crowded hospital reception area. Here, witches and wizards sporting all manner of ailments sit upon rows of wooden chairs. Healers, wearing lime-green robes, walk along the rows gathering information on their clipboards.
"Quickly, before you're seen," says Sirius, ushering Harry to Mrs. Weasley standing in line at the Enquiries desk. Looking around, Harry sees various signs directing one to the appropriate floor per nature of ailment. The entire building feels similar, and yet different, when compared to an average Muggle hospital.
"Too late." He finds himself being pointed out and discussed by many witches and wizards capable of conversation. Those ignoring him tend to be too caught up in their own ailments, some of which include badly Transfigured body parts, spells gone horribly wrong, etc.
Mrs. Weasley's group soon reach the desk where they're directed to the first floor, second door on its right. She now leads them down a few corridors before climbing a flight of stairs to enter the first floor passageway.
"Creature-Induced Injuries," reads Sirius, as the group searches for Mr. Weasley's ward.
"Yeah," says Harry, "and if you don't play nice with a certain House Elf then you'll have Kreacher-induced injuries, I'm sure."
"Hahaha! Very funny," laughs Sirius, while Hermione looks wide-eyed at their little joke. "He can try."
"I hope the Daily Prophet doesn't write an article about you being here," whispers Hermione in Harry's ear. "I can only imagine how they'd twist that story."
"Let's just focus on getting to Mr. Weasley," says Harry. "Family would probably want to go into the ward first, though."
Indeed, the Weasleys head in first, while Harry, Sirius, Tonks, Moody, and Hermione wait outside.
"Backs to the wall," says Moody, "gives a better view of the corridor."
Tonks sighs. "Oh give it a rest, Mad-Eye. We're in a secure hospital, and we're a big group sticking together." She then softly laughs as Harry stands against the wall while gripping his pocketed wand. "Look at you, acting all Dark-wizard catcher and stuff."
"Yeah, I'm on the lookout for my followers."
"Not funny, Harry," sighs Hermione, who stands beside him while grasping her pocketed wand. "Stop saying things like that."
"No need to stand outside, Harry," says Mrs. Weasley. "Come inside with the family."
Before he can respond, Harry's taken into the small, dingy-looking ward (containing three patients) by Mrs. Weasley. His mind once again racing with thoughts:
Well, it's only fair since I did just save this man. I saved him, yes, he didn't die. Voldemort didn't get this one too, like he killed other people... teenagers. Mr. Weasley wasn't killed like someone in the graveyard, and he's back with his family, yes. Not taken away on a stretcher after the Triwizard Tournament and—
"Harry? You there?" asks Mrs. Weasley, "Arthur was just telling us how Bill and that French colleague of his had to return to work before we got here. These injuries won't stop bleeding until the Healers find an antidote to this venom, though. Are you alright?"
"Huh? What?" Harry takes a moment to snap out of his musings as he finds himself seated on a chair between the Weasley children. He'd been staring blankly at the beaming Mr. Weasley right through the latter's praises and thanks. "Sorry, been caught up in some thoughts."
Mr. Weasley smiles. "It's alright, Molly, Harry's probably just shaken from all this. I mean it's not every day that someone... well... you know. Better not say it in public."
"Where were you when this attack occurred?" asks Harry, to which Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron all eagerly lean forward to listen.
Although Mr. Weasley's still beaming with a smile at Harry, he shakes his head. "I'm afraid I can't tell anyone about that, standing orders."
Try as they might, neither Fred nor George are able to get anything out of their father with regards to his mysterious duties last night. Their curiosity soon earns them a swift ushering out the door by Mrs. Weasley before Sirius, Moody, and Tonks enter the ward.
"Well?" asks Hermione, who's standing in the mostly-empty hospital corridor, "Any news relating to Mr. Weasley's duties?"
"Nope," says Fred, who soon pulls out and sticks a strange ear-like object on the door, its other end given to Harry.
"What in hell? Whose are these?" asks Harry, "The heck—"
"Fred and George's Extendable Ears, mate!" says Ron, "Oh, right, you weren't with us over the summer, sorry. They allow us to listen in through things like doors."
The twins pass enough Extendable Ears around for each of the group to listen in on whatever's being discussed. As expected, the whispers are vague and hardly give any clues, except that Mr. Weasley had been stationed somewhere top-secret. It's suggested that Voldemort possibly sent his serpent as a lookout, and that Dumbledore seems to have almost been waiting for Harry to experience such a vision.
"So, Potter's not sure about the details of his vision, right?" asks Moody, "There's something funny going on if he's getting these things even with Snape teaching him Occlumency."
"What if Harry's not practicing hard enough?" asks Mrs. Weasley, "But Dumbledore said this might be 'different' than simple Legilimency."
"Far as I can tell, Dumbledore wouldn't give a straight answer when asked if Voldemort's possibly possessing Harry," says Sirius, "And when Dumbledore starts beating around the bush... then it's usually not a good sign."
"I'm not saying You-Know-Who's controlling Potter or anything, but you've got to question that bright green image of the Killing Curse," says Moody. "You know, when Bartemius did the Incantato end of last school year? I sure as hell haven't been letting the students practice any Unforgivables. Just showed 'em once, except for Imperio which they had to constantly fend off. Come to think of it... Potter hasn't had any mental training back then and yet he picked up very quickly how to resist being controlled."
Tonks whispers next. "You're not suggesting that... that Harry's being influenced to the point where he's getting some of You-Know-Who's skills or something, are you? There's just no way that boy's evil, no way. Sirius, surely you'd know by now that Harry's not some up-and-coming Dark Lord?"
"I fully agree, Dora."
"Come off it already!" says Moody, "That's not what I said. We just need to be vigilant and that's what I'm doing, speculating."
"Why do you think Dumbledore worked so hard to get Harry out of Azkaban as quickly as possible?" asks Sirius. "Besides the obvious reasons of dementors and all that, there's also the fact that Harry's been in contact with my cousin. And I'm not talking about Narcissa nor Andromeda."
"Bellatrix Lestrange," says a gasping Mrs. Weasley. "Yes, Harry had mentioned her just this morning."
"How many times has Harry had to endure that witch's presence?" asks Mr. Weasley. "Must've been a tremendous ordeal for the poor boy."
It's only now that Harry sees the group outside staring at him as they all remain eavesdropping via the Extendable Ears. He gives a tight-lipped smile, though he knows there's some explaining to do. Meanwhile, Moody can be heard whispering next:
"Is there anyone else who spoke with Potter in there?"
"No," says Sirius, "Harry said the other Death Eaters never bothered with him, probably too busy planning on how to kill him. Bellatrix, though, you know what she's like. Plays with her prey before finishing the job..."
"And yet Potter never even flinched when Lestrange was outside his cell, did he?" asks Moody. "You remember when we went to pick him up? Lestrange was standing outside like they'd had a big, fat chat or something. She even said they were 'just talking and exchanging insults.' How much do we really know about what's going on in Potter's head?"
"I'm not throwing any accusations towards Harry but..." Tonks sighs. "When we came in, Lestrange acknowledged Sirius, me, and even Harry as family, yeah. What did she call him now again?"
"Baby Potter," replies Sirius, with clear distaste in his voice, "Well, she knows I'm his godfather, so that's that. And she said 'see you soon', which we can assume means Voldemort's planning on breaking them out of prison sometime."
"The more hands he's got, the bigger the risk to Harry's... you know... down in the Department of—"
"Shhh, Arthur!" says Mrs. Weasley, "Whisper or not, we shouldn't even mention that place."
"Anyway, how long until those wounds heal?" asks Moody, whose change of topic has the group outside pulling off their Extendable Ears.
"Why didn't you tell us you were getting on with Bellatrix Lestrange?" asks Ron, as Harry moves to stand at the wall facing the ward's doors.
"I did mention her this morning, didn't I?"
"You didn't say that you actually spoke with her," says Fred. "What's the deal, Harry? What are you hiding from us?"
"We've followed you and Hermione into Dumbledore's Army," says George, "so at least be straight with us."
Harry takes one look at the youngest Weasley, then he nods to have her approach. "Ginny, back me up over here."
"Whatcha need, good sir?"
"What's Ginny got to do with those accusations inside?" asks Ron. "We trust you, mate, but Mad-Eye's raised some serious points in there."
"You think Voldemort's possessing me?" Harry gives a mirthless laugh. "I know someone who was possessed by him, and she can give you a good explanation of what it's like, since I—have—no—bloody—experience—with—that."
"We're just worried that—" Fred's statement is cut off as Ginny scowls at him.
"Well, I have some bloody experience with that, literally." She mimics looking around in shock confusion. "That's how it feels after you're possessed. No idea where or what you've been doing, like a piece of your life's just been chopped away."
"Yeah," nods Harry, "Ginny was pretty much gone during her possessed periods. Hermione can attest to me being myself all the time, except the Polyjuice stuff which doesn't count. Um, Miss Granger?"
Hermione nods in agreement. "I won't deny that Professor Moody's got some legitimate suspicions, but Harry's as normal as he can be... which doesn't say much."
"What!?"
"I'm just joking," she smiles widely, flashing her white teeth at him. "Took a page out of your book, Mister Jokes."
"I came here to visit dad," says Ginny, "not stand and watch Harry being bombarded with evil accusations."
Harry smiles while looking at Hermione. "Should we rather change our group to Voldemort's Army, since everyone's coming at me with accusations?"
"What, no—" Ron's apologies are swiftly interrupted as Hermione stands with her arms folded. Her stare elicits a laugh from Harry as she looks at him.
"Voldemort's Army... Doesn't say much when you've got a Mudblood as a friend, huh?"
"Are you seriously using that awful word?" asks Fred. "Drop that scoundrel statement."
"You're better than that, Granger," says George.
"Why should I shudder and tremble from one little insult?" asks Hermione, as Ron shakes his head.
"Don't fall for Malfoy's and those Slytherin gits' horrible insults. They'll never see you for the genius that you are, it's forever blood status and stuff."
"Ahem," Hermione wraps an arm around Harry's back, "Exhibit A: This right here is definite proof that Slytherin House isn't all bad."
"Exhibit B," Harry returns the gesture. "My beloved Muggleborn, and not even Voldemort's possession can change this fact."
"Well, at least he's still normal," says Fred, before Mrs. Weasley steps through the doors with the others.
"Oh, have we missed something?" she asks, upon seeing Harry and Hermione standing with their arms wrapped around each other.
"Uh," Ginny fiddles with her fingers while looking around, "We were all just discussing school stuff, yes."
They now start their journey back to the Underground where Harry and Hermione sit beside each other. As the train moves on, he brings his head to her right shoulder while Hermione leans towards him with a smile. Their train ride spent wordlessly reflecting upon today's events.